


A Lark in Flight

by estelraca



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space Opera, Child Abuse, Clones, Espionage, F/F, Hybrids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-14 20:23:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13015446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estelraca/pseuds/estelraca
Summary: When Eponine is ordered by her progenitor to spy on the crew of theLark, she doesn't expect to find a home.  Sometimes family isn't defined by blood or DNA.





	A Lark in Flight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [takethewatch (fraternite)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fraternite/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy this little space opera romp and that you have a wonderful holiday season!

_A Lark in Flight_

"Tell me again what you're going to do."

"Apply for the open position on the _Lark_. Do my best to ingratiate myself with the captain, and if need be do what's necessary to eliminate the competition." Eponine smooths her hands over her skirt, resisting the urge to look towards where Azelma is standing quiet and still behind their father. "When I'm aboard the _Lark_ , record everything. Give it to you. You'll decide if it's better to use as blackmail or to sell to the highest bidder."

"Exactly. Perfect." Her father smiles, reaching out to pinch Eponine's cheek. In some parents it would be a gesture of affection; Eponine knows that from her father it's a way to check how she'll look under various lighting and with assorted cosmetics. "You are everything I wanted you to be. Your father's daughter, perfectly rendered."

Still Eponine keeps her eyes away from Azelma, not wanting to see her sister flinch. It hurts too much, watching the girl who could be a younger version of herself—who _is_ a younger version of her, really, a second female clone of their father. Eponine doesn't remember anymore what the truth of Azelma's creation was. Did their father make her because Eponine was too much of a disappointment? Because he wanted to expand his dealings? Because he didn't trust Eponine and wanted a spy to keep an eye on her? Or just because he could, because the woman who made Eponine as a gift for him hadn't yet determined that he would never love her and kept trying to win his affections.

Whatever the reason for Azelma's creation, she has become the one who bears the brunt of their father's wrath. She is the one who is never quick enough, never smart enough, never strong enough... all traits that her father had screamed at Eponine for displaying before Azelma existed.

Perhaps the only person in the universe her father hates more than Azelma is Gavroche, the male clone that ran away.

If Eponine keeps their father distracted, though—keeps him _happy_ by doing what he wants—then both she and Azelma fare better. Sometimes that involves cheating people. Sometimes thieving. Begging. Spying. Prostituting. Whatever scheme he comes up with, she has to go along with it.

What choice does she have, after all? She's property. She is an extension of his body, a secondary shell for him to legally use however he likes.

And if things go the way he wants, she's going to help him take down some of the only people out there protesting this state of affairs.

XXX

"Are you sure you don't want to interview any of the possible candidates, papa?"

"I trust you to know what you're doing." Her father smiles at Cosette across the small table that is set with their dinner.

They're eating in her father's cabin, as they usually do when Cosette wants to be near him. Despite running an open and welcoming ship, her father tends to stay locked up in his cabin whenever possible, leaving the actual management of the ship and crew to Cosette and Toussaint. Cosette doesn't mind—she can't remember a time before she lived among the stars (can't remember clearly a time before she was nine years old, and she never really tries). She sometimes wishes she could break her father out of his self-imposed exile and introduce him to the rag-tag group she's gathered around herself, though. "Do you want to meet them once I bring them on?"

"I want you to do what you think best." Her father flashes one of his rare smiles. "It's what you'll do no matter what I say, after all."

"If this is a dig because of the increased quality of your rations, you can thank me any time you like." Cosette crosses her right leg over her left, the weighted skirt tugging as she does. She doesn't always wear skirts—they're not practical in an environment where gravity may suddenly decide not to exist depending on systems failure—but sometimes she indulges the whim.

"It's more a concern because of the anarchists you're sheltering." Her father butters a slice of white bread before beginning to daintily eat it, watching her from beneath shaggy eyebrows the whole time.

Cosette snorts. "I think they would be sorely disappointed in being called anarchists. Well..." Cosette recalls finding Bahorel and Prouvaire in the rec room, a list of demands scrawled in red ink across actual _paper_. " _Some_ of them would protest being called anarchists. They're good people, though. They deserved the help. Plus they're Marius' friends."

Her father's eyes narrow, his lip twitching in a faint frown of disgust.

Cosette sighs. "He's really not that bad, you know. If you spent more time with him, I think you'd actually grow to like Marius."

"I don't dislike him." Her father's face is impassive again.

"You did. Because I was dating him, and you thought he wasn't good enough. Because at the time no one was good enough." Cosette pokes her father's shin with her bare foot under the table. "Now that I'm no longer dating him, can you maybe give him a second chance?"

"The boy's just..." Her father hesitates. "His opinions are volatile, changing with his company."

"He was twenty. Changing political opinions are common then."

"You were eighteen, and you already knew who you were and what you wanted." Her father punctuates his words with a thrust of the bread in her direction.

Cosette uses her finger to steal a bit of butter, popping it into her mouth. "I was raised by someone wiser than Gillenormand. Besides, I think there's something about being in space that's good for you."

Her father smiles. "I hope so. I've only ever wanted the best for you—you know that, right?"

"I do." Cosette returns her father's smile. Standing, she moves around the table to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. "And I appreciate it. Now, I'm going to go look at resumes and see who I want to interview tomorrow. And if you change your mind and decide you want to accompany me..."

"I'll know where to find you." Her father watches her with kind, loving eyes as she moves towards the door that will let her exit without issue—it's only _entering_ her father's room that can prove difficult.

Walking the corridors back to her room, Cosette trails her hand along the wall, feeling the thrum of the ship's engine— _her_ ship's engine, her _home's_ engine—as a comforting vibration.

XXX

Eponine smiles as she approaches the woman doing the interviews, holding out her hand. Not everyone uses handshakes, but enough do that it's worth the attempt at forward friendliness.

The woman smiles, reaching out to take Eponine's hand and give it a firm shake. "Welcome! You're interested in being a crewmember for the _Lark_?"

"Absolutely." Eponine settles into the station-provided seat, trying to keep her expression calm and cheerful. "I've always wanted to go into space. You'll see that all my certificates are in order—emergency medicine, basic piloting, alien interaction."

"That's good, because you never know when the first two will be needed, and the last is important for our crew." The woman steeples her fingers, studying Eponine over the top of them. "My name's Cosette Fauchelevent, by the way. I'm the captain."

"Eponine Thenardier, as you can see." Eponine keeps her smile in place. "What exactly would my duties as a crewmember be?"

"Following orders, at least insofar as it's necessary to keep us from getting killed. Assisting in the exploration of newly discovered planets. Monitoring communications—we all take shifts. Helping with general upkeep of the ship. Doing some kind of kitchen duty, whether that's cooking or cleaning, depending on your strengths." Cosette arches one eyebrow. "Still interested?"

Eponine's chest hurts. What would it be like to really do this? To really strike out on her own? To really be looking for a job here, and have a chance of creating a life of her own? Maybe not the life of her ideal dreams—there's danger in exploration, and Eponine prefers to avoid danger if possible—but an _important_ life, where her actions matter for more than pain... but she can't do it. Her father holds too much power over her, can destroy anything she creates at a whim. "Still interested."

"All right." Cosette leans back in her chair. "Then tell me what your ideal living situation would be aboard ship."

That's easy enough. It doesn't even involve any lying. "I'd like to have my own place, but it doesn't have to be big. Everyone does their job. People are companionable—perhaps we play games, watch vids, that sort of thing—but also give each other space. Metaphorically, at least. I know physical space is at a premium. We do our jobs, we explore, and we all come home in one piece."

Cosette gives a brief, perfunctory nod. "The contract I'd have you sign states that everyone aboard vessel is entitled to their own political, religious, moral, and ideological beliefs and will not infringe on those of their shipmates. Standard fare—don't want people trying to punch each other out two weeks in."

"That's acceptable." Eponine's hands hold tight to each other. "I don't want to cause trouble. I just want somewhere to belong for a little while."

Again it's not a lie, and Eponine hopes that will work in her favor.

They talk a bit more about Eponine's credentials and forged history, and then Cosette is reaching across the table to shake Eponine's hand once more. "I'll be contacting people within the day. Give it at least three before giving up, though—you never know who's going to say yes and who will get a better offer."

Eponine smiles. "I look forward to hearing from you."

Then Eponine is heading back to her cheap rental quarters, hoping she won't have to do anything too awful to secure the position she's supposed to.

XXX

Cosette flips through the digital paperwork on her potential new crewmates, coming back again and again to Eponine's. There had been something about the woman that drew Cosette's attention—an almost desperate need lurking just beneath the surface of a smile that, even if it wasn't pretty, was definitely personable. Cosette had been half tempted to take her aboard then and there, but she knew better than to do that without thoroughly checking over Eponine's credentials.

Now that she has... everything looks like it's in order. Everything looks beautiful, just the right amount of experience without being too ridiculous to believe.

Everything is a beautiful work of forgery. Cosette had been suspicious from the start of her own perusal—there are reasons her father stays away from people as much as possible, and it means Cosette has an interesting skill set. It hadn't taken more than a half hour with Feuilly for him to confirm what she had guessed, leaving Cosette with an interesting decision to make.

Does she take Eponine on despite the forgery? Or does she try to slip away before the woman knows that the _Lark_ has escaped her grasp?

Eponine could just be a very good actor. She could be pulling on Cosette's heartstrings in an attempt to get just what Cosette is considering giving her—access to the ship and the people aboard. But Cosette's instincts tell her that's not the case, that Eponine is in trouble rather than the source of the trouble.

Meaning... what? That Cosette invites the danger into their home? It's a way to ensure they know where their enemy is, Cosette supposes. And some of the others would certainly be willing...

Closing down her tablet, Cosette attaches it to her belt before heading to the mess hall. Everyone will be eating together, taking advantage of being in dock to socialize properly, and this isn't strictly Cosette's decision to make. Putting her own life in danger in a scheme Uncle Myriel would have approved of is one thing. Risking the rest without giving them a voice is something else.

But if the others say that it's all right...

Cosette grins, daydreams of showing Eponine exactly what the stars look like without the interference of an atmosphere dancing through her head.

XXX

Eponine can't believe it. Things are _never_ this easy.

Yet here she is, walking the corridors of the _Lark_ with Cosette at her side. The captain is in a simple white shirt and dark red pants that look phenomenal on her—almost but not quite the look of a pirate from a storybook. The smile she shares with Eponine is something else out of a story, something wide and eager and so very innocent, and Eponine dies a little inside as she forces herself to return it.

"And this is our hydroponic garden." Cosette gestures to the plants arranged in what Eponine supposes must be some kind of pattern but looks like a terrible hodge-podge mess to her eyes.

"It's... nice." That's always a diplomatic things to say. "Very... green." And perhaps she would have been better not following it up with anything. "Very oxygen-rich, I'm sure."

A human of indeterminate gender who is probably somewhere around thirty pops their head out of a thicket of plants about five meters away. Eponine would have sworn there wasn't any way for a person to fit in between the greenery, but they're clearly there. "It doesn't just help with oxygen, though that's nice. It provides fresh fruit, and also a place for us to remember our roots. Their roots, our roots, they come from the same lands, support the same type of life, and it's important to not lose track of that even as we find new places to put down roots."

"Eponine, this is Jehan Prouvaire." Cosette smiles fondly. "Jehan, this is our new crewmember Eponine."

Jehan smiles, bowing low at the waist. "Pleased to meet you. I hope you'll find the garden to your satisfaction."

"I'm sure I will." Eponine smiles weakly, taken aback by the fire in the human's eyes.

There's a moment where Jehan studies her with a frank intensity that makes Eponine uncomfortable. Then they nod to themself, turning to Cosette. "Bahorel and I are going to go planet-side when we hit Fidelity, if that's all right. It's almost time for the Ascension ceremony."

"Ah, right." Cosette nods. "You two do what you need. I'll entertain those you don't kidnap here."

"We don't kidnap people." Jehan smooths a hand over the odd, form-fitting clothing that they're wearing. The color of the fabric seems to shift beneath their hand. "We just offer them a chance to celebrate in a more... ecstatic fashion."

"A good choice of words." Cosette's smile is fond. "But don't try to take Eponine yet, all right? Give her a chance to adapt first before throwing her to the wolves."

"There will sadly be nothing but metaphorical wolves, given history." Jehan looks almost like they're going to cry as they reach out to squeeze Eponine's hand. "But I'll be sure to wait until you're ready to show you the figurative ones. Welcome aboard, new friend."

Without further ado Jehan turns and leaves.

Cosette watches them go with that same fond smile. "He and Bahorel are an interesting pair. You'll form your own opinions about them, I'm sure, but always remember they mean well and they'll get you out of any trouble they get you into, at least if it's physically possible."

Eponine offers Cosette a tentative smile. "I think I'll stick to finding my own trouble for a while, if that's all right."

Cosette's smile widens into a grin. "That's the spirit. Come on, now, let me introduce you to the others."

They head to the bridge next, where Eponine is introduced to a man with dark blue feathers for hair and the fine-boned appearance of a hawk. Cosette puts her arm around the man's shoulders. "This is Marius, my best friend and a wonderful communications officer. He speaks, what—seven languages?"

"Eight now." Marius' voice is low and regal, though his eyes as he watches Eponine hold a familiar desire—a need for approval. "Working on nine."

"Yeah, he's crazy like that. And it's not because of the hybridization—it's all Marius and his insane proficiency at languages." Cosette pats his shoulder. "Pick up any interesting hubbub today?"

Marius shakes his head. "Boring, but it usually is at a spaceport. 'Can I dock now' here, 'I don't like the tariff' there, 'what are local laws' everywhere."

"Keep up the good work, then. I'll probably have you train Eponine tomorrow." Cosette releases Marius, gesturing for Eponine to follow her.

They almost walk into the next individual. He appears to be human—an absolutely gorgeously androgynous man, and Eponine almost regrets having no romantic interest in men as she looks at him.

He takes a hasty step back from them, his fair skin coloring slightly. "My apologies. It's good to have you back aboard, Captain. And you must be Eponine. A pleasure to serve with you, fellow citizen. I hope the experience is enlightening for both of us."

Before Eponine can do more than gape in response, the man has slipped past them to continue on his way.

"He has that effect on people."

Eponine turns back around to see another human male leaning against the bulkhead.

"My name's Grantaire. He's Enjolras." Grantaire nods down the corridor. "Yes, his hair is natural. No, nobody knows why it emits light like that, though Combeferre's been looking into it for the last few years—he's one of our two doctors. Don't ask why we need two doctors. You'll find the answer if you think, and it doesn't help you sleep at night. No, he's not a hybridization—or at least not a human-made one. Yes, he could be part-alien, but if he is we don't know what one or why. And yes, he did call you citizen, will continue to call you citizen, and will hope you desire to help him make the galaxy a better place for all citizens." Grantaire finally pauses to draw a deep breath. "Does that about cover it, Captain?"

Cosette presses her fist gently against Grantaire's shoulder. "You're impossible. And why is Enjolras in such a hurry?"

"Combeferre needs him for something." Grantaire shrugs. "Courfeyrac wasn't called, too, so it's _probably_ scientific-future-of-the-galaxy rather than political-future-of-sentients, but you know the two can overlap so much... I'll see if I can make hide or hair out of it and report back to you."

Giving a jaunty salute, Grantaire continues down the corridor after Enjolras.

Eponine finds herself once more staring at nothing, feeling rather stunned.

Cosette's hand slips into Eponine's, giving it a little squeeze. "Those two can both be a little overwhelming, in very different directions. But they're nice. Grantaire's a good friend, and fun to share a meal with. Enjolras will defend your rights as a sentient being to the death. Probably beyond, though we thankfully haven't had reason to study that possibility yet."

"I, uh... I thought we weren't supposed to infringe on each others' personal beliefs?" Eponine tries to make her voice nonchalant. She had recognized Enjolras, of course—he's made quite the name for himself, and is one of the people she's supposed to be studying on the _Lark_.

"Oh, Enjolras won't. He firmly believes everyone should have a chance to find their own way to the truth, though he'll try to help you along the path if you give him half a chance." Cosette grins. "Everyone here has... let's say opinions on how the universe should function. Most of them have been thinking about this for a long time. They know a lot. They'll probably try to gently question how much you've thought about things. Enjolras is actually pretty good at making it not too painful. Sometimes Combeferre can be a bit... well, when Marius was being silly Combeferre kind of embarrassed him, but otherwise he's also a good one to talk to. And if you don't want to, that's fine. Tell them to leave a topic alone, and they will. If they don't, I'll get involved, and then it's not pretty. But that's never had to happen. They're good people, just trying to make everyone's lives easier."

Turning onto a cross-corridor, they come to a door with the universal symbol for "medicine" emblazoned in red above it. Cosette gestures for the door to open, revealing a furred alien and a human hybrid with three functioning arms and one that is kept close to his body in a sling. Cosette gestures first to the alien, then to the man. "Musichetta, our chief of staff. And Joly, our head medical officer."

Joly waves two hands, giving a shy smile.

Musichetta glides over to them, bright green eyes standing out against her black fur. "Welcome aboard. I'll give you two or three days to settle in before setting up a permanent schedule, but when you have a chance we should sit down and discuss your strengths, your weaknesses, and what you hope to learn."

"I'd like that." Eponine smiles shyly at the alien woman.

The door opens behind them, and two other people come in—one who looks human, and another hybrid with gills on his neck. Eponine feels her eyebrows try to climb and manages to stop them. She hadn't expected such a varied crew, especially given how most people feel about hybrids. Before clones became the lowest social caste, hybrids had occupied the position, even though they're now three or four generations removed from the lab and being reproduced quite organically.

"—really, Courfeyrac, you have to be a bit more careful." The man with the gills scowls at his companion. "I'd expect that kind of goading from Bahorel, but you should have a stronger sense of self-preservation."

"I have a just fine sense of self-preservation, Feuilly. I just also have a strong sense of justice. And you can't tell me you wouldn't have interfered if you were the only one there." Courfeyrac is favoring one of his arms, holding it close to his body.

Feuilly's expression softens as he reaches out to touch Courfeyrac's shoulder. "I would have been more cautious about getting myself injured. Humiliating men like that in public is a dangerous thing."

"But a very warranted one." Courfeyrac pouts at Joly. "I think I tore something in my shoulder. Or, rather, an irate gentleman tore something in my shoulder when I informed him that his courtship rituals resembled the fumbling attempts of a rabid canine hours away from death."

Joly lifts his eyes to the ceiling and sighs while grabbing a scanner from the drawers. A half minute of poking and prodding at Courfeyrac's shoulder and muttering to himself, and the doctor's body relaxes. "Nothing too serious. Tendon strain, but some laser therapy and a bit of platelet-rich plasma and I doubt you'll notice anything happened."

"See?" Courfeyrac grins at Feuilly. "Well worth it to show that lout exactly how much of an idiot he is."

Feuilly just sighs and shakes his head. Turning to Eponine, he smiles. "Welcome to the good ship madness. I hope you'll find it a pleasant trip."

"Our new crewmate!" Courfeyrac is practically skipping in place with enthusiasm as his attention shifts to Eponine. "So pleased to meet you. Wish it were better circumstances, but please ignore my love's fussing. Everyone here is perfectly sane and reasonable. It's just the world that's not."

There's a strange gravity to the way he says the world is lacking in sanity—as though he really believes it, really thinks that it's something wrong with the _world_ and not with himself or his people.

"I'm sure there was a good reason for the altercation." Eponine tries to keep her expression neutral, not wanting to choose sides.

Feuilly smiles softly at Courfeyrac. "There always is."

"Says the man with a much longer medical record than mine." Courfeyrac straightens his spine, all wounded dignity.

"Half my medical record is complications from these." Feuilly gestures towards his gills. "So that's an unfair comparison."

"Feuilly, would you mind taking Eponine under your wing when I'm not available?" Cosette slides her request easily into the conversation, neatly derailing what Eponine suspects would have been a circular argument.

Feuilly blinks. "Of course not."

"Thanks." Cosette grins. "You'll like working with him, Eponine. Not only is he smart and great with the electronics, he's a wonderful artist."

A blush colors the skin around Feuilly's gills. "I'm not that impressive."

"Oh, yes you are!" Courfeyrac puts his good arm around Feuilly's waist.

The next five minutes are lost in animated discussion of Feuilly's work from Courfeyrac, Joly, Musichetta, and another alien named Bossuet who joins the conversation partway through. Feuilly continues to blush, his eyes on the ground, clearly pleased with the attention.

When Cosette takes Eponine's hand and draws her away, promising that they'll rejoin everyone for dinner later, Eponine is honestly smiling.

She could get used to this life, she thinks. Get used to these people, at least so long as they don't require her to get into trouble with them.

Too bad none of it's real.

XXX

Her father gives her two months to work.

It's two months of beauty and joy. Two months of learning about the inner workings of the ship with Feuilly and Musichetta; two months of shared meals and steady work; two months of _happiness_.

Two months of _Cosette_ , and Eponine should have known things were too good to be true the night Cosette takes her into the gardens and opens the skylight.

It's a silly thing, really. It makes the ship more vulnerable, though Cosette explains in detail the doubled paning that prevents space debris from being an immediate threat. It's a concession to beauty above functionality.

It's something Eponine has come to expect from Jehan, from Bahorel, sometimes even from Courfeyrac. It's not something she would have expected from Cosette, but as Eponine watches Cosette look up at the stars, expression gentle and serene, she wonders why she had made such a silly mistake.

"What do you think of it?" Cosette gestures upward, at the glass that is framed by foliage in multiple shades of green and blue and red.

Eponine looks at the steadily-burning stars, forming patterns that are so very different from the ones she saw while on her homeworld. "I think it's beautiful. Just..." Eponine pauses, the words sticking in her throat. She shouldn't do this. She shouldn't make it harder than it already will be. This isn't _real_ , she reminds herself, even if it feels like it is. And yet... and yet... for a few days, maybe, she can pretend that it is. "It's just as beautiful as the ship's captain."

Cosette lowers her head, staring at Eponine through thick golden-brown hair. "I'd say it's just as beautiful as you, but you might think I'm stealing my lines then."

"It's not stealing if it's properly sourced and done in the spirit of sentient communion. Then it's referencing or honoring." A smile tugs at the corner of Eponine's mouth as she repeats Jehan's words.

"Oh, well, in that case... to paraphrase what a wise woman said, the stars are almost as beautiful as the woman looking at them." Cosette leans a little closer.

Eponine leans closer in turn, her lips tingling, her breath coming faster. "Why do you do this, Cosette? Why have this ship, this crew of... this _unique_ crew?"

"Because I can. Because there's freedom here, beneath the stars, in a ship that belongs to me and mine." Cosette's hand reaches out, toying with strands of Eponine's dark hair. "Because I _can_ offer this place to people like Enjolras, and Combeferre, and Feuilly. People who are trying to make the universe better for us all. Because I've been kept behind bars, first out of cruelty, then out of love, and _here_ is the only place I can feel that won't happen again."

Tears prick at Eponine's eyes, and she pulls back a little. She can't do this. She is going to betray this woman. She can't listen to her whispering such soft secrets, such earnest reasons, and pretend like everything's fine.

Cosette doesn't pursue Eponine, though her eyes look far older than they should as she allows her fingers to pull loose from Eponine's hair. They look like Eponine's eyes do, staring dark and hard at her from the mirror.

Standing on shaky legs, Eponine backs toward the door.

"I can't always promise safety." Cosette speaks quietly, still not moving from the blanket they had laid out on the ground. "But I could promise we'll try, Eponine. I could promise we'll do our best to protect our own—just like we'll do our best to protect anyone who needs it."

Eponine gives her head a shake. "It's not—I just don't feel good suddenly, that's all. But I'll—I'll see you tomorrow. Promise."

Eponine doesn't wait to see the disappointment bloom on Cosette's face. She just turns and runs back to her quarters, feeling her father's eyes watching her from afar the whole time.

XXX

The summons comes the next day, hidden in what seems to be a standard commercial broadcast. Her father's sponsors are growing restless. Whatever Eponine has now, no matter how incriminating, will have to do.

She has all the data she's gathered—all the little jokes, the meetings, the slips of tongue that betray how much this little crew believes in the humanity of all sentient beings and how far they will bend the law for what they feel is right. It fits on a tiny data disc less than the size of her littlest finger's nail. She could have fit it on something smaller, even, but she worried if she made the disc too small she would lose it.

All she has to do is enter the disc into the communications system. The program embedded on it will transmit everything she gathered to her father, an encrypted stream of data that will help damn these people who have been nothing but kind to her.

She sits at the console for ten minutes, her father's brusque command playing on loop, ringing loud and strident, so that she hears him as a voice in her ears and a voice in her head both demanding what she doesn't want to do.

And so she decides she won't do it.

There's relief in the decision, though she knows it's stupid. Her father owns her—legally, socially, historically. If he were standing here, would she be able to make this decision?

Closing her eyes, Eponine feels the brush of Cosette's fingers against hers.

Yes.

For these people—for _her—_ for the kindness that's been shown—

To be, as Feuilly has said, more than others would ever expect her to be—

Yes.

She would make this decision.

The fact that he would almost certainly kill her afterwards, and face no consequences for it... as Courfeyrac said, the world is mad.

That doesn't mean she has to let the madness inside her.

XXX

Cosette leans back in her chair, closing her eyes and putting her hands over her mouth.

Eponine did it.

Cosette shouldn't be surprised. She had thought— _hoped—_ that they were getting through. She had been certain that the right decision would be made. And yet... she doesn't remember clearly, still, the abuse her father saved her from. But she remembers how it felt—the certainty that she had no control. The fear. The confusion when someone offered her kindness. The weeks of slowly coming to understand that her father wouldn't hurt her.

And now, finally, she's been able to pass that kindness on.

"She'll be here soon." Feuilly's voice slides gently through the stillness on the bridge. "Did you want to talk with her alone?"

"Yes. Please." Cosette takes her hands away from her eyes, straightening up. "I want someone monitoring communications—whoever was willing to forge those documents for Eponine isn't going to be pleased by this. But for this... for this I'd like to talk to her alone."

The bridge empties without another word being said, Marius pausing to touch her shoulder as he files out.

Cosette's chest burns with love for her people, and she vows once more to do whatever's needed to keep them safe.

XXX

Eponine doesn't give herself time to doubt.

As soon as she's on the bridge and has located Cosette she marches up to her, pressing the data chip into Cosette's hand. "Here. Destroy this. It has data on the crew—data proving Enjolras is involved with fringe groups, that Joly has illegally treated hybrids and clones, that Musichetta helps forge documents to get people out of bad situations. It's proof I was paid to search for and send, but I can't do it. I don't _want_ to do it. And I'm sorry I ever thought about doing it in the first place."

Cosette doesn't panic. She doesn't reel back, staring at Eponine in horror. She just closes her fist around the data chip and nods. "I appreciate you giving me this. And I'll appreciate any information you can give me on the people who sent you. But right now, I just want to tell you how impressed I am with your bravery."

Eponine blinks, caught off guard. "I don't... what?"

"You're so brave." Cosette steps forward, pulling Eponine into a loose embrace that Eponine could escape from with minimal effort. "To give me this, to stand against them—you're _brave_ , and I'm proud of you, and I love you."

Eponine should step back, putting space between herself and Cosette. She should deny being brave—brave people don't shake like this, so scared of what the future might bring. She should tell Cosette about everything she's done before, all the times she's helped her father finish a deal.

Instead she presses forward, and her lips find Cosette's. It's a fast kiss, hesitant and sloppy, because Eponine doesn't know what she's doing. She's kissed people before, but never because she wanted to—never because her body and soul ached to be hugged and held and helped by the person she was kissing.

When they break apart Cosette is breathing hard. Her fingers brush against Eponine's cheek. "Later, we're going to pick that up, if you have any interest at all. But right now—right now we need to deal with who sent you here. All right?"

Eponine swallows and then gives a shallow nod. "All right."

Cosette takes her by the hand again, as she had the first day Eponine was aboard ship, and together they go to make preparations.

XXX

Their preparations are in vain.

Eponine should have expected it. Her father is not one to give up lightly, and the kinds of people the crew of the _Lark_ irritate can and will spend a great deal if it helps maintain their power.

There's no warning. There's simply a series of explosions, and Eponine watches in confusion and disbelief as the wall in front of her and Feuilly dissolves into shrapnel. She immediately, instinctively, sinks into a crouch, trying to protect herself.

Feuilly places himself as a shield between her and the worst of the blast, and she watches in shock as blood drips down to stain her face, the same bright red as every other human's blood she's ever seen.

He isn't dead. He's groaning too much to be dead, for one thing, and she holds that as a comfort as she helps him settle down to the ground. His back is a mass of lacerations, but if she can get him to the medical bay—if Joly and Combeferre can help him—

They aren't losing atmosphere. She realizes it slowly, in fits and starts, as she watches Feuilly's gills and mouth both move, frantically attempting to keep his dwindling blood supply oxygenated. She realizes it as her repetitive _hush_ , and _it's okay_ , and _you're fine_ s carry easily to Feuilly. She realizes it as she tries to calm her pounding heart, pushing aside panic as she's done on other jobs, and partially succeeds.

It's success that evaporates when a heavy booted foot connects with her side, slamming her into the remaining damaged wall. Even before she lifts her head to see the body and face connected with the boot, she knows who it is.

"Well?" Her father glares down at her. "Tell me your excuses. Tell me they found you out and had you as a prisoner. Tell me they're too clever for you and you weren't able to get anything. Tell me the comms unit burst into flame. Tell me what pathetic lies you're going to, so I can tear them down and teach you a lesson about disobeying me."

Eponine stares up into her father's eyes, and she's just as afraid as she's ever been. He can hurt her. He _will_ hurt her, in various and creative ways. He will strike her physically. He will abuse her verbally. If he can find something she holds precious, he will destroy it.

He terrifies her, still, but now there is something overlaying the fear. Now there is anger, burning hot and terrible, as dark and fierce as the fury in his face.

And more than that... more than that, there's _hope_. It doesn't have to be like this. It doesn't _have_ to be him controlling her. She doesn't _have_ to be the helpless mirror image, dancing to his every whim.

Putting herself between him and Feuilly, she scrambles for a piece of shrapnel, cutting her fingers on the burnt edge as she holds it up as a weapon. "Get away from us."

He looks from her to the shrapnel, and the corner of his mouth curls up in a vicious snarl. "Or what? Do you think you can really hurt me?"

"Yes." Eponine slices out with the weapon, using a cut that Courfeyrac had demonstrated while showing her swordsmanship. "And I won't regret a moment of it."

He believes her. She can see it in the way his face closes down, eyes going hard as pieces of granite. She can see it in the calculation that moves his hand to the gun holstered on his hip. If she's going to disobey him, if she's going to be dangerous, then he's going to put her down.

And no one will be able to do anything about it.

A terrible calm settles over Eponine as she watches the gun come up. She always suspected she would die for her father, either on a mission he set for her or at his hand. It appears that she was right.

A shot rings out and Eponine flinches. What will it feel like to die? She's heard Jehan wax poetic about it multiple times—about good deaths and bad, earned deaths and the vast injustice of the universe in how others die. Will he survive? Will he write a poem about her?

It's only when her father topples over, his corpse clattering in the shrapnel, that Eponine realizes she doesn't hurt any more than she did before her father appeared.

"Feuilly!" Courfeyrac seems to materialize out of the smoke, skidding to a halt next to Feuilly's prone form. "Feuilly, come on, you've got to—"

"Remind you..." Feuilly coughs. "To be careful of your hands... on my gills."

"Feuilly..." Tears streak a thin layer of grime on Courfeyrac's face, but he shifts his arms down to Feuilly's shoulders. "You'll be fine. Don't worry. Combeferre's here—" Courfeyrac looks over his shoulder. "And you'll be fine."

Summoned by Feuilly's words, Combeferre and Enjolras emerge from the swirling smoke as the _Lark_ attempts to scrub the atmosphere clear. Combeferre doesn't hesitate, moving to Feuilly's side. He has Courfeyrac help him turn Feuilly, and begins a thorough examination of the damage to Feuilly's back.

Enjolras has a weapon in hand, another strapped to his back. He moves silently and with more care than his friends, eyes scanning to and fro, the brilliant blue seeming to spark.

Or perhaps it _is_ sparking. With Enjolras, one never knows.

Toeing at her father's body, Enjolras looks from it to Eponine before turning his attention back to monitoring for more attacks. "I'm sorry."

Eponine shakes her head. "I'm not. He attacked us. He hurt Feuilly. He would have... he would have..." Her voice trembles too much for her to continue, so she just shrugs.

"He made a grave mistake, that's what he did." Courfeyrac's voice is all ferocity, and Eponine looks back to see him holding tight to Feuilly's hand. Feuilly has his head buried in Courfeyrac's shirt. His gills flutter as Combeferre turns the rags of his shirt into makeshift bandages, but he otherwise doesn't flinch. "The _Lark_ has permission to defend itself against attack, and the day someone can best Enjolras when fighting on familiar ground—"

"Careful the promises you make." Enjolras speaks softly, not letting his guard down. "But it is foolish to attack someone on their own home ground, and I intend to protect our crew."

Courfeyrac looks from Enjolras to Feuilly to Combeferre, clearly torn about what to do.

Feuilly solves the conundrum for him, giving Courfeyrac's shoulder a gentle push. "You go help Enjolras. Eponine and Combeferre will take care of me, and you know where to find me when everything's done."

"Right." Leaning in, Courfeyrac presses a swift, passionate kiss to Feuilly's mouth. "Behave until I'm back. You're not allowed to get into trouble without me."

Feuilly just smiles, the expression not fading until Enjolras and Courfeyrac are out of sight. Then a grimace of pain steals across his face before being carefully shoved away.

Eponine kneels down next to Feuilly, and together she and Combeferre lift him to begin a stumbling journey towards the medical bay.

XXX

It takes six hours for the fight to be definitively finished, and their side wins hands-down.

Enjolras doesn't kill everyone who attacked them. He seems determined to take as many alive as he can, which means the med bay is filled with angry, confused enemies by the time he's done.

Feuilly has been patched up by then, and Courfeyrac comes to his rescue. Slipping his hands under Feuilly's body, he grins. "Shall I carry you to our abode, my darling?"

"If you drop me I'm going to make you sleep in your own room." Feuilly carefully pulls Courfeyrac's hands back into the open. "But if you wanted to help me walk..."

Courfeyrac sighs. "Never one for the dramatic romantic gestures, are you?"

Feuilly's gills flush again, and he smiles. "I love a good romantic gesture as much as the next person. It's getting dropped that I don't appreciate."

The two of them hobble slowly out the door, Feuilly's back glistening where it's covered in a shiny biofilm that should have the lacerations healing well within forty-eight hours.

Eponine watches them go from her corner, her hands clasped tight in her lap. She doesn't know what to do now. Things had been better for a bit, when Combeferre and Joly were using her as a spare set of arms and barking orders. Now that the chaos is starting to dissipate, though, she's left with nothing to do but stare at the people who came with her father.

Some of them stare back. Montparnasse first grins and then glowers at her. "Come on, girl. You know what you need to do."

Eponine refuses to meet his eyes, afraid of what she'll do if she does. She very much doubts the crew of the _Lark_ will appreciate her striking a bound prisoner.

"Eponine." Montparnasse raises his voice slightly. " _Eponine_."

Eponine stands, wondering if it would be all right for her to return to her cabin until she's needed again. Before she can ask Combeferre, though, an unfamiliar old man enters the medical bay.

He moves easily, like a man much younger than his seamed face and white hair would indicate. His eyes rake over the prisoners twice—once counting, she thinks, and once examining bindings. When he speaks, his deep voice carries easily throughout the room. "Be grateful for what you have been given today. And use your second chance to be better people than you have been so far."

Montparnasse rolls his eyes at Eponine before turning a charming smile on the old man. "Sir, most of us were just following orders, sir. We didn't mean—"

The old man isn't listening to him, though. His eyes are on Eponine, and he gestures imperiously for her to follow.

Eponine does, at first out of habit, and then out of burning curiosity. There's only one person this could be—Cosette's mysterious father, the man who never wants to leave his cabin.

He leads her to said cabin, though he's kind enough to leave the door open at her back, giving her a place to escape to if need be. It's one of the nicest things someone's done for her; it's one of the dumbest things he could do, given her obvious involvement with those who attacked them.

He pours himself a glass of water before gesturing with the stoppered pitcher. "Would you like some?"

After a moment Eponine nods. One never knows when fresh food and water will be available. Take them when they're offered.

As if reading her thoughts, the old man places a basket full of biscuits on the little table he's sitting at, gesturing for her to take one.

He's been in bad situations, Eponine thinks as she bites into the first biscuit. He's known hunger, and fear, and a need to escape.

"You've been very brave." His voice is softer and gentler when he talks to her.

Eponine shakes her head. "Stupid. I've been very stupid. I don't know how much Cosette's told you—"

"More than enough." The old man breaks a biscuit into four pieces, beginning to methodically chew one piece. "And I suspect we know more than you had planned for. Your betrayal didn't take us by surprise, child."

Eponine's whole body seems to burn as she raises her hands to look at the old man. "What?"

"You didn't take us by surprise. Cosette had determined before she hired you that your documents were forgeries—that you were likely a plant." The old man shrugs. "The crew voted that the risk was worth it. Better to know where your enemies are and etcetera. Plus Cosette suspected that there was more to the story. And given what Joly found on your physical, I suspect I know what it is."

All the blood that had pooled in Eponine's skin retreats to the center of her, leaving her lips feeling cold and numb. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you're like me." Another piece of biscuit disappears into the old man's mouth. "You're a clone, child."

To hear someone say it out loud hurts more than Eponine had expected. She's always _known_ it—known that she was property, that everything she is came from her father. But for others to know—for _Cosette_ to know... except... wait. "What do you mean like you?"

"I'm a clone, as well." Cosette's father meets Eponine's eyes. "Cosette is, too. I rescued her, and she rescued me."

"But—you can't—" Eponine sputters to a stop. "Clones aren't allowed to do things like own spaceships."

"No. They're not." The old man smiles sadly down at his biscuit. "But Cosette was never meant to be a tame dove in a cage. She's been meant to fly her whole life, and that's what I've given her. In return... she gives me more white hairs."

He pulls some of his hair out, as if for inspection. Eponine tries to smile, but can't quite manage it.

The old man leans back in his chair. "In return, she's given me hope. She's found people who don't care—who not only accept us for what we are, but are willing to fight to see us granted rights. The legal status of hybridizations only changed five years ago, and the crew you see around you is a big part of why." Closing his eyes, Cosette's father pinches the bridge of his nose. "Which is almost certainly why we've attracted the wrong kind of attention. But still."

Eponine swallows, feeling faint. "Cosette is... not of _you_ , right?"

"No. I would never." There is grim certainty in the old man's voice. "She was cloned from a woman, against the woman's will, though Fantine loved Cosette dearly for all of that. It's a long and painful story, though, and I don't believe tonight is the night to tell it. I just wanted to say... thank you. For making my daughter smile like you have. For being brave enough to turn on those who considered you a docile pawn. And to let you know that you're not alone, no matter what anyone says or how you might feel as you begin to process this."

"I... thank you, sir." Eponine studies her hands, not sure what to say—not sure what to _do_.

"No need for thanks." Silence descends between them. "Though if you wanted to do something for me... you could always go find my daughter. Because no matter what, Cosette deserves to be happy. Whether that's with a peacock-headed... _individual_ or someone like yourself, Cosette always deserves to be happy."

"I... think I'll go do that." Eponine stands, energized just to have a role—a _purpose_ , something to do.

It's only when she's on her way to the bridge that she stops to think talking with Cosette may be harder than dealing with Cosette's father.

XXX

"You did well. Thank you." Cosette studies Enjolras. She knows from Combeferre's report that none of the blood spattering the beautiful man belongs to him. It makes him look fierce and feral, like a warrior out of old tales.

"Don't thank me. I did what had to be done, nothing more. And I eagerly await the day it no longer needs doing." Exhaustion and sorrow crease the corners of Enjolras' eyes, making him actually look close to his age for a change. "Did you need me for anything else?"

"I'll need you for the vote, but let's give everyone a chance to eat and clean up first." Cosette gestures towards the door. "For now consider yourself dismissed and under orders to shower, eat, and rest, in whatever sequence seems best."

Enjolras smiles, giving a small salute.

A little thrill of... Cosette isn't sure what to name it as she watches Enjolras walk away. He's demonstrated, once more, that he has the leadership skills and physical prowess to take the _Lark_ if he ever wanted to. She had happily ceded control to him during the battle. Yet when it's done, he doesn't hesitate to hand back power to Cosette—not as the owner of the vessel, but as the elected captain.

The door opens before Enjolras reaches it, revealing a gaunt, pale Eponine standing in the corridor. Enjolras bows to her, using one hand to somehow usher her into the room while he slips out. Eponine stares around the bridge, looking stunned.

Cosette hurries to the other woman's side, reaching out to touch her arm. "Eponine. How are you?"

"I'm sorry." Eponine blurts out the words, and there is something haunted in her eyes as they finally meet Cosette's. "I didn't know this would happen. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." Cosette leads Eponine to the communication's chair, gently pressing her down into it. "And you did what you could to help us, both before and during the attack. Don't worry. No one blames you."

"But you _should_." Eponine shakes her head. "I came aboard under false pretenses. I put you all at risk. I've... I did terrible things for him, before I met you."

Cosette kneels in front of Eponine's chair. "Because you wished to? Or because he ordered you to?"

"Because he ordered me to. Because he _owns_ me." Eponine's voice drops to a whisper. "And because it would make me so angry—how others had so much, and didn't seem to appreciate it. If it was a matter of me and Azelma being safe or them... it was never really in doubt what I'd pick, before."

Cosette brushes strands of Eponine's hair away from her face. "And that's all right. It's a hard situation to be in. What matters is that you chose, now, to break away from him. And we'll make sure it happens."

Eponine is silent for almost a minute, frowning down at the floor. "Your ship's going to be wanted now. You're going to be fugitives."

"Which we always suspected would happen sooner or later." Cosette shrugs. "It's kind of a miracle Jehan and Bahorel haven't been arrested yet. They'll thoroughly enjoy being rogues."

Eponine continues to frown at the floor. "Then... what happens now?"

"Now we vote on what to do next." Cosette shrugs. "But I know my people. There will be debate, but if we don't decide to drop our prisoners off and accept our status as rogue while using this incident to push for change, I'll eat my captain's hat."

The tiniest smile graces Eponine's face, making it light up like a dawn. "You don't have a captain's hat."

"I'll get one just to eat it." Cosette gathers Eponine's hands in hers, giving them a gentle squeeze. "And don't worry. We know what we're doing."

Eponine's head tilts just slightly to the right. "And what's that?"

"Fighting for a world where we can all exist safely. Fighting for the change that _needs_ to happen. Fighting for _hope_." Cosette pauses. "What would you like to do, though? Because you can do whatever you want. If you wish to go ashore... if you wish to stay..."

"I... want to find my little siblings." Eponine's voice is a quiet whisper. "Azelma. Gavroche. I want to make sure that they're safe."

"Then I'll help you do that." Cosette pulls Eponine's hands to her lips, pressing a light kiss to her knuckles.

"Why?" Eponine still looks stunned.

"Because everyone deserves a better life, and I'll give it to them if I can. Because—"

Cosette doesn't get to continue. Eponine's hands are suddenly free, Eponine's arms wrapping around Cosette's neck to hold her tight. A brief pause, a meeting of their eyes, and then Eponine's lips are pressed against Cosette's.

This kiss is better than their last. Eponine isn't holding back—isn't nervous and scared. They've moved through fear to something newer, something _better_ , and Cosette closes her eyes as she sinks into the warmth of the embrace.

After too short a time Eponine pulls back, smiling shyly at Cosette. "Thank you. For caring so much, and for trying to be hope for those no one else cares about."

"Thank you for being willing to accept hope, when cynicism is so very, very easy." Cosette's fingers trail along Eponine's cheek. "Now come on. Let's go grab food and see how the others are doing. Sound good?"

Eponine nods, and the two of them head towards the mess hall together. A hundred problems await them, Cosette knows, but so do a hundred new dawns, and really, in the grand scheme of things, that's what matters more.


End file.
